by Laura Durham
That’s what I’d been afraid of. “Thanks for checking it out.”
“You know me,” she said. “It’s always work, work, work.”
Kate took off her coat, and I blinked a few times. “So you have an issue with drinking in church but not with wearing a micromini?”
Kate tugged the hemline of the red dress which was tight at her waist and flared out. “I wouldn’t say micro.”
I eyed the skirt which rested several inches above mid-thigh. “It barely covers your—“
“Hoo-boy!” Fern, our go-to wedding day hairstylist, rushed up to us. “I’m glad you two are here.”
He took our coats and waved for us to follow him to the coat check station off to one side, handing us a claim ticket once he’d passed the coats to the tuxedoed attendant.
With his arms free, I was finally able to take in his outfit. Covered from head to toe in forest-green velvet, Fern wore both pants and a cropped jacket that were tapered and slim fitting. He’d tied a white silk ascot at his throat and pinned it with a garnet the size of a small egg, and he’d pulled his dark hair back in a low ponytail that barely dipped below his collar. Nothing about this ensemble surprised me since Fern considered dressing to the season and occasion the height of creative expression. I was just happy he hadn’t dressed in bishop’s robes.
“Why are you at an Organization of Wedding Planners party?” I asked, returning the air kiss he gave me. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you.”
Kate looped an arm though his. “He’s my plus one.”
Why hadn’t I thought to bring a plus one? Not that I’d want to subject anyone not in the wedding industry to the experience.
We walked from the foyer into the sanctuary, and I paused for a moment. The wooden chairs that usually sat in rows and filled the long sanctuary were gone, replaced by an elevated, round DJ booth in the center, and both cocktail tables and food stations fanned out around it. Patterned green lighting had been projected up the stone columns and vaulted ceiling, giving the cavernous space an otherworldly feel.
Kate and I had coordinated several wedding ceremonies at the National Cathedral, each one with masses of traditional white flowers on the altar and a bride processing to sacred music. The rules for weddings at the cathedral were quite strict, and the vergers who ran the show carried long ceremonial staffs for pomp and enforcement (or so it always felt to me). It was strange to see the religious space decked out like a nightclub.
“Have you seen Richard?” I asked Fern as my eyes scanned the people mingling around tables draped in shimmering red cloths.
“He was by the poke’ station earlier.” Fern motioned to a long wooden table to the right topped with glass bowls.
“Poke’?” Kate asked. “That’s the Hawaiian version of ceviche, right?”
I nodded as I looked for Richard around the busy station. “Raw fish, yes.”
“I wonder how he’s making that fit in with the holiday theme.”
“Have you tried the smoked scallops, ladies?” Bambie Sitwell, or Boob Job Bambie as we called her, asked as she walked up to us. “They’re literally smoking them at that table over there.”
I glanced at the square table where a chef in a white jacket appeared to be placing small plates of scallops under smoke-filled glass domes. “Hi, Bambie. Are they good?”
She closed her heavily made-up eyes for a moment and brushed a strand of hair off her Botoxed forehead. “Divine.” Her eyes popped open. “But not as addictive as these mistletoe margaritas.” She held up a large glass coupe filled with lime-green liquid and garnished with a green sprig of what I could only assume was mistletoe.
Kate’s head swiveled around. “Did you say margarita?”
Bambie waved a hand laden with rings toward a bar that appeared to be draped in ivy and red berries. Kate and Fern took off in that direction without a backward glance.
Great. Now I was stuck talking with Boob Job Bambie, whose only topic of conversation seemed to be her latest trip to the med spa or her latest well-heeled, long-in-the-tooth husband. And was Richard really serving tequila at noon inside a cathedral? I knew he was what he considered a lapsed Catholic, and the National Cathedral was an Episcopal church, but this seemed a bit sacrilegious even for him.
I looked past Barbie’s teased blond helmet and spotted my best friend’s dark, spiky hair above the crowd. I caught his eye as he came into view ,and a look of relief passed over his face.
He rushed over and gave me a perfunctory hug, ignoring Bambie who didn’t seem to notice as she floated off to talk to someone else. “You got here just in time.”
“Why?” I asked.
He straightened his dove-gray tie layered on his dark-gray shirt. “I was desperate for some intelligent conversation, that’s why. All the planners want to talk about is ‘the list’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“You mean the Capital Weddings Magazine list? Is that out yet?”
Capital Weddings Magazine published a list in their January issue of the top wedding vendors as voted on by the DC wedding industry. The issue was one of their best sellers, and brides-to-be and their mothers had been known to use the list as a bible. Making the magazine was a boost to business, and getting the coveted starred listing as the top vote getter was the jewel in any wedding professional’s crown.
“Rumor has it early issues have just come off the presses, and an issue is floating around the party somewhere,” Richard said, looking nonplussed. It was easy for him to be so nonchalant since his company, Richard Gerard Catering, had been a fixture on the list since it began, and he’d gotten the star next to his name more than once.
“Don’t you want to get a peek at it?” I asked him, peering around and trying to spot someone flashing a bridal magazine.
“I suppose, but it’s not like the list changes dramatically from year to year.” Richard studied a passing waiter then nodded approvingly.
“We only made it onto the list two years ago,” I said. “I just hope we don’t fall off after all the . . .”
“Murders?” Fern asked as he and Kate joined us, each holding a bright-green margarita. “You didn’t. I checked.”
I put a hand to my heart. “You did? Wait, where did you see it?”
“Brianna has it,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
So much for getting a sneak peek. Brianna, owner of Brides by Brianna and one of the newer wedding planners to join the scene, had hit our radar when she’d started spreading rumors about Wedding Belles in an effort to steal our business. Kate and Fern had retaliated by telling anyone who would listen that Brianna was, in fact, running a call girl business instead of planning weddings. From then on, we’d done our best to avoid each other.
I twisted around to see if I could glimpse our nemesis. Sure enough, she held court on a low tufted sofa setup near the DJ booth with a gaggle of twentysomething planners clustered around her, flipping through what was undoubtably the January issue of Capital Weddings. Before I looked away, Brianna caught my eye and glared at me.
“She does not look happy,” I said, indicating her with a nod of my head.
Fern gave me an arch smile. “No surprise there. She’s not on the list.”
Kate sloshed some margarita on her sleeve. “She’s not? I heard she campaigned hard this year. Cassie at the floral warehouse said she called them and begged them to vote for her.”
“Sounds about right,” I said, feeling more pleasure than I would have liked to admit that a planner like Brianna, who was short on substance and long on styled shoots, had been left off the list. “I’m surprised she didn’t get her daddy to buy her way on.”
Brianna’s business had reportedly been bankrolled by her wealthy father, which meant she had money to splash out on advertising and expensive gifts for clients. There were whispers that’s she’d recently passed out Louis Vuitton passport cases to all the hotel executives for the holidays.
“Money can’t buy everything, darling,” Richard said. “I
t certainly can’t buy class.”
“Congratulations,” a young woman with glossy black curls said as she came up and gave Kate a hug. “Are you so excited?”
“Thanks, Sasha,” Kate said, raising her cocktail in a salute. “It’s always an honor to be on the list.”
Sasha tilted her head at Kate then looked at me. “You don’t know, do you?” She giggled and clapped her hands. “Wedding Belles got the star. You’re top vote getter.”
It took a moment for the news to sink in, but I felt my mouth drop open. Kate squealed as she bounced up and down, Fern taking the cocktail from her hand before it all spilled onto the marble floor.
Richard gave me a one-armed hug and cleared his throat. “Well, it could not be more well deserved.”
“Thanks.” I felt dazed. “I was afraid we wouldn’t make the list because of all the drama at our weddings this year.”
Fern waved a hand at me. “I mean, who doesn’t have a few dead bodies pop up at their weddings?” He took a drink from Kate’s glass. “The important thing is you always saved the weddings, even if it meant bending the law.”
I hoped he would never mention that to my boyfriend.
“I wonder who else got stars,” I said. Now I was dying to see the list and maybe stare at our star for a few hours.
“This is ridiculous,” Fern said, handing both glasses to Kate. “I’ll be right back.”
He sashayed over to the planners huddled around the magazine. After talking to them for a few moments, they all jumped up and rushed across the hall. Fern picked up the abandoned magazine and hurried back to us.
“How did you do that?” Kate asked.
“Simple. I told them there was an Instagram wall they could take pictures of their cocktails against, and that no one had posted a cocktail shot yet.” He winked. “It should take them a while to search the Cathedral and realize I lied.”
I took the magazine from him and flipped to the back section where I knew the list would be. I located the section on wedding planners and ran a finger down until I found the blurb about Wedding Belles along with a hot-pink star. I felt a rush seeing it with my own eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” Kate whispered as she gazed over my shoulder at the magazine page. “Look at all the names of all those older planners around ours. I wonder what they think about this.”
It hadn’t occurred to me what the reaction from our competition might be, but as I looked up I noticed a group of older planners a few feet away giving us the serious side-eye.
Richard took the magazine from me. “Let’s take a look at the list of caterers. Probably all the usual suspects.”
I nudged Kate and indicated the glaring planners with a jerk of my head. “I’m not sure this is going to make us the most popular people.”
“When you’re on top, people are always going to want to knock you down.” Fern took his cocktail back from Kate and raised it. “But at least you’re on top, sweeties.”
“We should go out and celebrate,” Kate said. “And not in a place where they serve communion.”
I felt my phone buzz and glanced at the screen. Why did Reese need me to call him ASAP?
“I think I’m going to faint,” Richard said, the magazine slipping from his hand and dropping to the floor.
I caught his arm as he staggered against me. “What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?”
“I’m dying.” His words came out in short gasps as the color drained from his usually tanned face. “It’s over.”
Kate stared at her nearly empty glass. “What’s happening? Was he poisoned?”
“Worse,” Richard said, his eyes wide and his voice a strangled sob. “Richard Gerard Catering is not on the list.”
Chapter 6
“Put your head between your knees.” Fern rubbed Richard’s back. “It will help with the hyperventilating.”
“We’re in a car, you ninny,” Richard said as he hitched in his breath. “I can’t bend over that far without putting my head in the glove compartment.”
I glanced at Fern in my rearview mirror and saw him make a face that Richard undoubtedly missed.
“Maybe that’s where you should put it,” Fern muttered.
Richard either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the comment. He slumped against the passenger side window of my car. “I can’t believe this happened. My life is over.”
I drove up the ramp of the National Cathedral underground parking garage and paused when we reached the top. Traffic on Wisconsin Avenue whizzed by us, allowing me to idle the car for a few moments. I cranked up the heat and put my icy fingers to the vents to warm them more quickly.
We’d rushed Richard out of the party and into my car so fast I hadn’t had time to warm it up, so the air inside still felt like the air outside, and that seemed to be getting more frigid by the minute. “Your life isn’t over. Like I said before, I’m sure you were left off the list by mistake.”
“It’s a conspiracy,” Richard insisted. “I’ve been blacklisted; I just know it.”
“Why would anyone blacklist you?” Kate leaned her head between the front seats. “Have you made any new enemies lately?”
“Of course not,” Richard said, then tapped his chin. “Define ‘enemies.’ And ‘lately’.”
As my car warmed, I took a long breath. “Why does it suddenly smell like I walked inside a gingerbread house?”
“Since we left the party in such a fast and furious flurry, I barely had time to eat.” Fern held up a basket filled with cookies. “I might have grabbed a few treats for the road. Want one?”
“A few treats?” Richard gaped at him. “That’s an entire basket of cookies from the dessert station.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cookie, “ I said, reaching a hand behind me.
Richard looked at me like I’d just kicked his dog. “I can’t believe you can eat at a time like this.” His eyes flitted to the dark-brown cookie Fern put in my hand. “And those molasses cookies are meant to be paired with iced vanilla latte shooters.”
My stomach rumbled. “I’ll risk it.”
A car honked behind me, and I looked up at the light, which was now green. I waved an apology and turned left into traffic, glancing over at Richard, who’d dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t believe someone would have it out for you enough to remove you from the list. Everyone knows you’re the best caterer in town.”
I took a bite of cookie. Not only did it smell like Christmas; the sugar-dusted molasses cookie tasted like it. I could almost hear the sleigh bells as I wolfed it down. Kate and Fern both crunched on cookies behind me as well.
Fern held up the magazine in question. “He’s definitely not on it. I’ve gone through the entire thing a few times.” He flipped to a page and held it up. “I, however, got mentioned as an ‘editor’s pick’. What does that even mean? It’s not like I’ve done any of the editors’ hair.” He flipped a few more pages to the masthead. “Or have I?”
Richard whipped his head around. “You brought that thing with you? I never want to lay eyes on it again for as long as I live. Capital Weddings is dead to me.” He waved a finger in the air. “Dead, I say.”
“At least you’re not overreacting,” Kate said.
Even though I agreed that Richard was being his usual overly dramatic self, I also knew that being left off the list was a huge deal and could mean that a lot of brides wouldn’t be calling him over the course of the next twelve months. Unlike Wedding Belles, Richard Gerard Catering did more than weddings, but brides made up a big chunk of his client list. Not only that, weddings kept him from being bored to tears with corporate luncheons and drop-off deliveries to law firms. I, for one, did not want to deal with a restless Richard with too much time on his hands. I’d had a glimpse of it when he’d been shut down under suspicion of poisoning once, and I did not want to relive that anytime soon. I veered right onto Massachusetts Avenue as the light changed from yellow to red.
Richard clutched the armrest. “Where are w
e going? Georgetown isn’t this way.”
“We’re stopping by the District Two police station,” I said.
Richard snapped his fingers. “Excellent idea, Annabelle. I should press charges against Capital Weddings. This is slander and defamation at the very least.”
I sighed. “We’re not going to press charges against the magazine. Reese texted me and said he had some information about the baby that Buster and Mack found.”
“Are we still going on about that baby?” Richard fluttered his hands in the air. “It’s not like the child knows she’s been abandoned. She’s probably better off now than she was before. I, on the other hand, have had my entire reputation destroyed.”
I hooked another right onto a mostly residential street and turned into the District Two parking lot. “I promise you we’re not making light of what’s happened, but I also promised Buster and Mack we’d help them find out as much as we could about who left Merry.”
“It’s not like we can’t do both,” Kate said. “We’ve investigated enough crimes that we should be able to juggle the baby case and figure out why you got left off the list.”
Richard twisted to face her. “I do not say this often. “He paused. “Okay, I’ve never said this at all, but you are a genius, Kate.”
She grinned. “Thank you. It’s nice for you to finally ackno—“
He cut her off. “Don’t let it go to your head, darling. It was probably a one-off, but you’re right that we need to investigate why Capital Weddings has it out for me the same way we would a murder at a wedding.” A flutter of the hand. “Or an abandoned baby.”
“Fine.” I let my breath out in a huff and stepped out of the car. Everyone followed me as I hurried across the parking lot out of the cold and into the two-story brown brick building with blacked windows. Reese was going to love this. Not only was I showing up with a small posse, I’d gotten roped into a second investigation. Maybe I wouldn’t tell him about ‘The Case of the Blacklisted Best Friend’ right away.
I stamped my feet a few times to warm them up as we stood in the utilitarian foyer of the station. A reception desk to the right stood guard in front of a series of battered wooden desks behind it. I could hear the sounds of typing and of people talking. I spotted Reese bent over a desk looking at a computer monitor.
